


If you want something done right...

by LilySayuri



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oblivious Enjolras, Oblivious Grantaire, Oblivious Musichetta, Recreational Drug Use, and dramatic, everyone's oblivious ok?, terribly dramatic, this is a dumb fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 05:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilySayuri/pseuds/LilySayuri
Summary: Musichetta is fed up with Enjolras and Grantaire's nonsense, so she decides to help make it happen. Unfortunately, though, as everyone knows, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself (or, “How all of Musichetta’s friends are filthy backstabbers”)."Musichetta was exhausted. It hadn’t been a very tiring day but the meetings of Les Amis de l’ABC were proving to be exceptionally hard. Not that they were discussing particularly tough matters, the thing that was wearing her out, was the constant mutual pining of Enjolras and Grantaire who kept staring at each other longingly when the other wasn’t looking (they must’ve developed some sort of psychic connection because they never met the other’s gaze), sometimes Grantaire even sighed so soppily that Musichetta seriously feared she was going to throw up [...] at the umpteenth longing look from Grantaire, though, Musichetta decided that she had had enough of it. She had to do something."





	If you want something done right...

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of inspired by [this](https://thebloodofangrybabes.tumblr.com/post/167300508786/les-amis-are-actual-students-okay) post by [thebloodofangrybabes](https://thebloodofangrybabes.tumblr.com/).
> 
> This is a dumb fic. Please don't take it too seriously :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Musichetta was exhausted. It hadn’t been a very tiring day but the meetings of Les Amis de l’ABC were proving to be exceptionally hard. Not that they were discussing particularly tough matters, the thing that was wearing her out, was the constant mutual pining of Enjolras and Grantaire who kept staring at each other longingly when the other wasn’t looking (they must’ve developed some sort of psychic connection because they never met the other’s gaze), sometimes Grantaire even sighed so soppily that Musichetta seriously feared she was going to throw up. Lately she only could stand them when they were bickering, but that happened far too rarely that day for her liking.

The situation had been going on for ages, since Grantaire had first set foot six months before in the student house they all shared, the _ABC Grand Mansion_ (as Courfeyrac named it, Musichetta wasn’t sure it was due to frankly worrying delusions of grandeur or sarcasm. Knowing him, it was probably the former). That was when all the residents of became the biggest group of third wheels in history.

It had started innocently enough, glances that lasted a little too long and blushes that happened a little too readily. Until it all came to a head in what was now know as _The Encounter_ , as Courfeyrac called it quite dramatically.

 _The Encounter_ was basically when, one of the first days Grantaire moved in, he had the wonderful idea to take a shower  at nearly the same time as Enjolras did, so that when Enjolras got out of the bathroom in a tiny bathrobe that didn’t leave much to the imagination, with his skin and hair still wet, Grantaire, who was getting into the bathroom, met him by the door. Needless to say he  was also almost naked, wearing only a minuscule towel around his waist and that they were very, _very_ close. Musichetta unfortunately was there and sometimes she still relived the horror in her nightmares: the sexual tension between them, so thick that even a knife couldn’t scrape it, their eyefucking clumsily hidden in a glare and her deep desire to be anywhere else but there.

Since nobody wanted to witness _the encounter_ ever again, Les Amis instituted the _Red and Black Watch_ (another stupid name given by Courfeyrac, what was that guy’s deal with names?), a group of two people that had to stay alert at all time to avoid the two of them meeting half naked again. They took turns and every group had a different tactic: Courfeyrac and Combeferre usually formed a human shield against Grantaire discussing politics with Enjolras, while Joly and Bossuet pretended either to need someone to study with and began listing obscure diseases (Joly) or to destroy something (Bossuet) so that the other could get safely to his own room. Once Bossuet even set off the fire alarm forcing all of the residents to evacuate. Nobody ever knew if it had been done on purpose or it was just Bossuet being himself.

Musichetta was very proud of her and Bahorel’s system: it was based on Grantaire’s love for alcohol and weed and Enjolras’ sweet tooth. Showing up to one of them with a cupcake, a bottle of beer or a joint could work miracles.

 _Too bad this can’t be fixed with booze or cakes_ thought Musichetta glowering at a heart-eyed Grantaire from her armchair _Or could it?_

She considered it for a bit but then fell back to her annoyance. It wouldn’t work. Even if she showered them in pot and cookies they’d still refuse to see how obviously they were into each other.

 _Worse than fucking Romeo and Juliet, really_ she thought, irritated, _at_ _least they sorted it out in some way or another._

At the umpteenth longing look from Grantaire, though, Musichetta decided that she had had enough of it. She had to do something. The only thing to do now was to find an ally.

 

*

 

Thankfully the next day was a Saturday, so everyone was in the house.

The first people she turned to, of course, were Joly and Bossuet, her (kind of) best friends.

She paused for a bit before knocking on the door. Things had been a bit... weird among them recently: Joly and Bossuet had officially begun dating two weeks before and Musichetta truly couldn’t be happier for them, but she also couldn’t help but feel a little left out of their new little world. Also they made her _feel_ _things_. She told herself that it was normal, that they were her friends and what she was feeling was nothing more than friendship, but deep down she knew that it wasn’t how someone was supposed to feel for their best friends. The worst was that she felt it for _both_ of them which was confusing, to say the least.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought and then she finally knocked.

"Jolllly, hi" she whispered cryptically as soon as he opened the door "Can I come in?"

They lived in a house full of nosy people and Musichetta was feeling like James Bond.

Joly looked puzzled.

"Uh, of course?"

"Hi, Musichetta!" greeted Bossuet cheerfully from his bed when she got in "How’s it going?"

"I need to talk to you" she said, trying to be mysterious.

"Oh, God, what is it this time?" he joked pulling himself up "If it’s another “I need you to taste this new recipe I invented”, count me out. I’m still digesting your last creation"

"It was two months ago" said Joly confused.

"Exactly my point"

Musichetta was actually a very good cook and everyone usually devoured anything she made, but sometimes, when she was trying new things, the result wasn't as good as she wanted it to be, something Bossuet loved to tease her about.

"First and foremost: fuck off" snorted Musichetta "And second: no, it’s not about cooking, it’s about Enjolras and Grantaire"

"What about them? Do you need to change your turn of the Watch?" asked Joly.

"No. As you know, Grantaire and Enjolras are being annoying as fuck and their sexual tension in getting unbearable and I think I have the solution to the problem" they looked at her expectantly and she paused for a bit for the sake of drama "They need to bang it out!"

"So what you’re saying is..." said Joly warily.

"I need you to help me make them fuck!" she declared with a victorious smile.

Silence.

"...Do you really think that would be wise?" asked Bossuet carefully.

Musichetta felt her grin fading quickly from her face. She was very offended that those words came from the guy who once tried to put a battery in the microwave to see what would happen.

Before she could say anything, Joly stepped in: "Maybe they should figure it out by themselves"

"They’ve been dancing around it for six months! They will never make it alone!"

Joly and Bossuet exchanged a meaningful look and Musichetta knew with a pang at her stomach that they had already decided together, leaving her alone. As per usual lately.

"I think that we both agree that you shouldn’t intervene" said Joly then.

"All right. Thanks for your concern" she managed to mutter stiffly through her gritted teeth.

"Please, don’t do anything stupid" he pleaded.

She faked a tight smile (probably even faker than Jehan’s fuchsia “Ducci” sunglasses with rhinestones) and ran away, forcing herself not to slam the door shut.

 

*

 

"Traitor" she hissed angrily after Jehan closed their door with an airy: "I’d rather not. You could ask Montparnasse, though!"

"I’m not gonna get myself killed" she said a little quieter looking gloomily at the black door at the end of the corridor "Nor do I want Grantaire and Enjolras to get killed. For now"

Montparnasse was a true (and quite disturbing, to be honest) riddle. He had moved into the _Grand Mansion_ before anyone else, he painted his door black and stuck a piece of paper on it with a knife saying _‘Lasciate ogni speranza, o voi ch’entrate’_ *, clearly not giving a damn about the rules of the house and then he disappeared. Nobody had seen him since and nobody knew his major. Hell, nobody even knew _if_ he was majoring in something! Then one day, Jehan knocked on his door with a tray of freshly baked _madeleines_ , ignoring the ominous sign and weirdly enough, since that day they had become pretty close. When someone asked Jehan why they had done it, they’d answer with a serene smile: "I just wanted to finally meet my neighbour".

After that, they began to mention Montparnasse in random conversations with innocent anecdotes like: "Ah Montparnasse is taking italian literature too!" or something a bit creepier like: "Did you know that if you kill someone you should clean their nails afterwards so that the police can’t find your DNA under them? Montparnasse told me all about it".

One time, though, they baffled everyone saying: "Oh yeah, Montparnasse sometimes pushes a poem he thinks I'll like under my door and sends me pics of pretty flowers he finds".

Absolute silence followed those words.

"What? He’s cute!" they said defensively, their cheeks going a delicate shade of pink.

“Cute” was a term nobody in the _Grand Mansion_ had ever used to describe Montparnasse and the whole group decided unanimously that it was better not to ask.

Then, one day, Jehan came to breakfast with teal jeans, a red t-shirt with a Bulbasaur on it - something very Jehan-like - and a black studded leather jacket - something very not Jehan-like who didn't wear black even at funerals.

" _Merde_ " gasped a wide eyed Cosette who liked old and stupidly expensive clothes "That’s a vintage jacket! And it's so _rare_! Look at that silk lining! And that's real leather! Where did you find it?"

She let out a reverent sigh and she touched it carefully, like it was made of glass instead of sturdy leather, eyeing it with longing.

Jehan, who seemed oblivious to the clear envy in her voice, answered with a simple: "Montparnasse".

The man was truly a mystery.

 

*

 

After Jehan’s vile betrayal, Musichetta headed to the kitchen craving a snack. Talking to so many frustrating people had consumed all of her energy.

She was raiding the fridge when Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel and Feuilly entered  the room noisily.

Perfect, four birds with one stone.

"So then I just had to - hey! Are those my donuts?" asked Bahorel accusingly, interrupting what seemed to be a very compelling story.

_Uh oh. Busted._

Musichetta put the already half empty box back on the shelf with an apologetic smile.

"Oh man! You already ate half of them!" cried Bahorel dramatically.

"No, I didn’t! I found it like that, I didn't even get to eat one of them" she complained.

"’Chetta, you should be ashamed" interjected Courfeyrac with a sly smile "No one should eat another man's donuts, you know that!"

_That bastard._

"Also do you know that sugar is bad for your teeth?" added Combeferre with the same guilty look as Courfeyrac.

_Those bastards._

She didn't have time for sulking, though, she was a woman on a mission, so she began explaining her plans to the four men.

"Is that the scheme to make Enjolras and Grantaire fuck?" interrupted Bahorel loudly.

"Will you keep your voice down? Do you want the whole university to hear you?" whispered Musichetta closing the kitchen door swiftly "And how did you know about it?".

"Bossuet and Joly told us about it" said Feuilly without bothering to lower his voice.

 _Those little shits_ thought Musichetta feeling utterly betrayed.

"And?" pressed her.

Feuilly, Bahorel and Combeferre exchanged a look.

_Oh, not again!_

"We’re not going to help you, I’m sorry" said Combeferre calmly just as Courfeyrac exclaimed passionately: "I’m in!"

Musichetta turned quickly to his unhoped-for ally.

"Really?"

"Yeah! Those guys need our help! And who better than the… Sparkle-Hair-Injustice-Tequila Squad to sort it out?"

"The Shit Squad?" laughed Bahorel "Man, you really must work on your self-esteem"

"It’s S.H.I.T." said Courfeyrac scowling "Sparkle" and pointed at himself "Hair" and pointed at Musichetta "Enjolras is Injustice and Grantaire is Tequila, of course. I dare you to come up with a better one"

"Why Hair and Injustice?" asked Musichetta puzzled.

"Because you have great hair, everyone knows that" he answered matter-of-factly.

She smiled and blew a kiss at him.

"And sometimes Enjolras screams “INJUSTICE!” while he’s sleeping" chimed in Combeferre "He’s so loud that even Courf can hear him from the other room"

"He fucking wakes me up!" he said indignantly "The only reason he doesn’t wake Marius up is because he’s basically Sleeping Beauty and he needs either my or Cosette’s kiss to awaken"

Combeferre looked at him with a slight frown, a wrinkle appearing on his forehead.

"So what do you do when Enjolras wakes you up?" asked Feuilly innocently.

Courfeyrac’s cheeks went to a particularly violent shade pink. It reminded her of Jehan’s mauve crocs.

"We go stargazing on the roof" replied Combeferre with a slight fond smile.

" _Oh_ " Musichetta uttered delightedly, a grin slowly spreading on her face.

"By the way, can I talk to you just one sec?" said Combeferre to an increasingly flustered Courfeyrac.

"Uh… sure" muttered him following him outside the room.

There was a brief silence.

"GWAMFI!" blurted out Feuilly.

"Are you having a stroke?" asked Bahorel.

"No, no" replied him laughing "It’s a better name for the Shit Squad: God-Why-Are-My-Friends-Idiots Squad".

Musichetta stuck her middle finger up at him.

"I’m very disappointed in you" she grunted "Especially you, Bahorel, you’re always up for shit like this. I know that Feuilly is too much of a goody two shoes to join in anyway" she muttered under her breath.

"But I _am_ up for this shit! I really am!" exclaimed Bahorel "I think you’re totally right and I’m rooting for you, I just don’t wanna get involved. Got more than enough drama in my life, thank you very much".

It was true. With a crazy ex-boyfriend, an equally crazy current girlfriend soon to be broken up with (or so he said), a roommate such as Grantaire and a group of dramatic friends like The Amis it was actually surprising that he hadn’t flipped out yet.

"And actually" Feuilly said serenely "I may be a goody two shoes, but I’d rather not side against one of my best friends and plan his sex life (that I don’t want even to know anything about anyways). Also I’m not even sure he and Grantaire would want any of our help, you know perfectly well how painfully stubborn they can be".

"Ooooh that’s cold!" yelled Courfeyrac while getting into the kitchen again, followed closely by a very satisfied Combeferre "By the way, I’m out of the S.H.I.T. Squad".

"You _what_?" screeched Musichetta in disbelief.

"Yeah, sorry" said him, not looking sorry at all and glancing at a now grinning Combeferre.

"Coward" hissed her crossing her arms "Wait till I’m finished with Enjolras and Grantaire. You’re gonna be next".

And with that, she made her way out, leaving a strawberry red Courfeyrac (very much like Jehan’s ladybug socks which they liked to match with the mauve crocs), a very pale Combeferre (Jehan’s-beige-clip-on-pearl-earrings pale), a wheezing Bahorel and a very amused Feuilly.

 

*

 

The utter and abysmal betrayal of those who she couldn’t bring herself to call anything else than traitors made her realize two things: it was a waste of time asking Cosette and Marius since their philosophy was “Love will find a way” and that, consequently, she had to do this alone.

Musichetta decided to tackle the problem at its root, ergo, she had to find Grantaire.

She had considered briefly to talk first with Enjolras, but since she wasn’t exactly his most trusted confidant and that he could be quite scary when he was mad (and she strongly suspected that he wouldn’t take her intervention lightly), she chose to go with the more approachable and friendly Grantaire, who, even though was quite good at boxing, seemed much more harmless.

She knocked and then slowly opened  Grantaire and Bahorel’s bedroom door. Inside it was pitch black, the only light came in a blade from the open door. Even if he was almost twenty-two, he had the routine of a preschooler, so he was probably having his afternoon nap.

"Grantaaaire" she singsonged softly "Guess what I have here?"

The pile of blankets on the bed on the right moved slightly and produced a groan.

"It’s a tray full of brownies"

Another grunt and the shuffle of fabric when Grantaire turned his back towards her.

" _Weed_ brownies" she pointed out sharply "And if you get up, brush your teeth and have a super fast shower, they can be all yours"

The pile gave out a more interested snort.

"They’re my _special_ chocolate brownies, you do remember them, don’t you?"

Something that Musichetta chose to interpret as an affirmative noise.

"Listen to them, they’re calling you! Grantaire, Grantaaaire!" she whispered in her mellowest voice.

Slightly desperate groan.

"Well, then! I give you fifteen minutes tops. I’ll wait for you out here" she said dropping the sweet voice and closing the door.

 

Musichetta had waited twenty minutes before Grantaire got out of the room, but she was feeling exceptionally generous since she could finally connect to the house’s shitty Wi-Fi, a luxury that she couldn’t afford in her almost-on-the-roof bedroom.

"Should we take this outside?" she asked with a grin to a rather rumpled Grantaire.

She led him up the flight of stairs and then onto the roof. They sat with their legs crossed on the battered tile floor facing each other.

"So" said Grantaire taking a brownie from the platter between them "What d’ya want?"

Musichetta didn’t even try to pretend to be interested in just a simple chat.

"Let’s cut the bullshit" she said decisively, straightening up "You want to bone Enjolras and I will help you".

Grantaire froze while taking a bite of the brownie. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his eyes going wider and wider and then he began coughing and spluttering pieces of chocolate.

She reached out for his back and patted it compassionately.

"Why?" he managed to utter in between the coughs.

She could tell the truth, something like: "Because you two are getting annoying" or "I’d rather help you than dwell on my disastrous love life. At least you two are both actually attracted to each other" but she decided to say a half lie instead: "Because I’m your friend and friends help each other".

"Aren’t you Enjolras’s friend too? I strongly doubt that he’d like to… you know... with me" muttered Grantaire tracing shapes between the crumbs on the floor "Ouch!" he exclaimed as she punched him on the shoulder.

Either Musichetta was stronger than she thought, or he was a big, whiny baby. Probably the latter.

 _Good thing that the Shit Squad’s become the Hit Squad instead, I guess_ , she mused bitterly rolling her eyes, _I feel I could punch him again._

"You have to stop second guessing yourself! This" she got up and drew a circle around them with her finger "Is a no-negativity zone".

"Whatever" shrugged Grantaire still with his eyes fixed on the floor "He doesn’t like me like that. Hell, I don’t even know _if_ we’re friends!"

"D’you want another punch?" she crossed her arms, fierce "And of course you’re his friend! He values your opinion like no one else’s! Also he told me he likes your tattoos".

That wasn’t actually related to the friends thing, but it was worth a shot.

"Really?" he raised his head so fast that he probably strained some muscle and let out a small whine. He was still grinning, though.

Well, Enjolras didn’t exactly _say_ it, but it was quite obvious: that time when Grantaire showed up to breakfast in a tight and almost see-through white t-shirt he exhaled sharply and dropped his precious red coffee mug. Then he spent the rest of breakfast staring at him.

"Uh… sure!" she muttered feeling pressured by his hopeful smile and puppy eyes.

He let out a contented sigh and leaned on the wall, turning to face to the multitude of roofs beneath them and the sunny sky.

She sat beside him and put the tray on his knees.

"Eat a brownie" she said.

"You trying to get me high?" laughed Grantaire, taking one nonetheless.

"There’s no weed in those, they’re just plain comfort food, sorry" she smirked "I had to lure you here to have The Talk one way or another!" she defended herself when he glared at her.

He took a large bite of the sweet and stared meditatively at the horizon.

"The thing is that I don’t even know why I like him. He’s not even my type!" he sighed deeply.

"Wait a minute" said Musichetta in disbelief "You _like_ him? Like like him?"

"Uh… Yeah? Aren’t we talking about my humongous and painfully obvious crush on him?"

"I thought you just wanted to fuck him" she whispered weakly, her eyes widening in horror.

"Oh" he managed to say blushing "I’d, uh, actually want the whole thing: the hand holding, the speaking like normal people without fighting all the time, the, uh, kissing..."

_Crap._

Now the only one she wanted to hit was herself. If he had a crush on Enjolras, the thing was much more serious. Now she realized why most of her friends didn’t want to get involved (the responsible ones, at least. It was a wonder that Bossuet refused, actually. Maybe his relationship with Joly was having some weird effect on him). She felt so stupid: she was probably the only one who hadn’t figured it out yet. Now all of Grantaire’s sighing during the meetings made much more sense.

Meanwhile, Grantaire was still listing things he wanted from his hypothetical relationship with Enjolras dreamily, a dumb smile widening on his face: "...we’ll have a dog and a cat, one named after a painter and one probably with a stupid name like Marx or Democracy or Patria; while we’re waiting for him to be elected President - just imagine me being the first lady. I’d have to wear fucking _pant suits_ -, we’ll go live in a cute little house on the seashore where I will paint and he’ll write his revolutionary articles against bad politicians; we’ll have five blonde children with blue eyes and his impossibly high cheekbones... Fuck, I hope he won’t want to name them Libertè, Egalitè and Fraternitè because then we’ll _have_ to name one of them Beyoncè..."

 _Oh shit_ , she thought, feeling a bit nauseous. She didn’t even try to tell him that it was biologically impossible for them to have blonde children with blue eyes and Enjolras’s cheekbones (unless they either cloned him, or adopted a gaggle of his tiny doppelgangers, of course).

"...we’ll cuddle, of course, and, _oh_ " he gasped turning even redder (Jehan’s-burgundy-leather-shirt red) "We’ll _cuddle_ ".

He stopped talking, ecstatic, probably meditating about what _cuddling_ with Enjolras entailed.

They stood in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts  (self-loathing for Musichetta and much happier for Grantaire).

"I didn’t know you even _had_ a type" she managed to say weakly after a while "Apart from, you know, beautiful, blonde, with a jaw so sharp that could cut into stone, scary, easy to offend, very into politics, coffee and his bike, who would marry his own country if he could..."

"I know" he muttered sheepishly, his face turning sad again.

"I will help you anyway, you know that, don’t you?" she said softly after a brief pause.

He nodded with a sweet (but rather strained) smile.

She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapped  an arm awkwardly around his back in what was supposed to be a hug and watched with him as the afternoon slowly turned into evening. While her friendship with the other Amis could be much more physical (Courfeyrac, for example was known to be particularly effusive) her friendship with Grantaire had never been like that, based more on sharing jokes and the occasional joint on the roof.

It was so weird seeing that melancholic expression on his face. He usually hid his emotions with his typical bitter smile, but clearly in that moment he couldn’t muster it.

She knew she had been wrong before, but she couldn’t help trying to cheer him up, even just a little.

"I really think he cares about you, for what it’s worth" carefully choosing not to use the word “like”.

No response.

"I actually didn’t want to help you just because I’m your friend" murmured Musichetta nuzzling into his shoulder "I was trying to keep my mind distracted from thinking about my equally fucked up love life. Also I thought from my high horse you were pretty fucking annoying. Sorry about that".

Grantaire let out a low chuckle and wrapped an arm around her. She relaxed into his touch.

"Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I was, anyways" he said holding her tight, still giggling "Is it about Joly and Bossuet?"

"How the hell…?" she tried to ask, but he didn’t leave her time to finish.

"Is it true?"

Musichetta nodded reluctantly and he smiled, satisfied.

"No shit: I’ve known about you, Joly and Bossuet for ages. Why d’you tell me now, though?".

He really was very good at reading people, much better than her and surely way better than Enjolras.

She began tracing lines on the floor with her free hand, pensive, just like he did a few moments before.

"Because I forced you out of your comfort zone, it’s only fair I do it too" she sighed in the end "And it’s nice. Finally talking about it with somebody".

"Right".

They stayed there for a while in silence, watching as the sun set with a triumph of reds, yellows and oranges.

"You should tell him" Musichetta pointed out raising her head to look at him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"You sound like my friend Eponine" he said, a faint smile on his lips "She doesn’t take any of my bullshit either".

"I’d like to meet her then" she murmured softly.

"I know that I should tell him" he said after a while, taking a big breath "But it's so scary".

"Yeah, I know".

"You should tell them too".

"I know" she sighed.

Silence.

"Ok, so let’s do this: if I tell him, you tell them" proposed Grantaire with a slight grin.

Musichetta leaned her head on his shoulder again.

"Fair enough. When you wanna tell him?".

"As soon as possible?" he sighed pinching wearily the bridge of his nose "I’m tired of keeping it to myself, it’s just too much".

"Yeah, tell me about it" she snorted softly.

They stayed still for a while, watching the sky become darker and darker when suddenly, the door opened with a loud noise revealing a rather flustered Enjolras.

Both Grantaire and Musichetta jolted.

 _How convenient_ , she thought, _I’m in a rom-com and I didn’t even realize it_.

"Oh, you’re here! We were searching for you!" he exclaimed with a strange expression on his face.

Then he took a better look at them and Grantaire immediately jerked his arm away from Musichetta making her almost fall face-forward on the hard tiles.

_What the fuck?_

"Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know about you!" said Enjolras hastily, flushing red "Congratulations, I guess"

He said “congratulations” with a grimace that was probably supposed to be a smile and went suddenly pale.

"I didn’t know… I’m happy for you, I really am! Since when…? Does anyone else know about this? Are you gonna make the big announcement tonight?" he began blabbering, is skin tone going a very peculiar hue of green (like Jehan’s pistachio glittery purse).

 _Is he becoming a streetlight?_ wondered Musichetta.

Meanwhile, he kept on prattling: “Did I interrupt...? Of course I interrupted! I didn’t know you were... Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll just leave you to it“ and he seized the doorknob, evidently eager to run away.

"What?" asked Musichetta, out loud this time, without adding “the fuck” just because she wanted to be polite for once and he seemed quite shocked.

He turned around looking uncomfortable.

"You two are clearly a thing and I didn’t know that" he explained in disbelief, carefully avoiding Grantaire’s gaze, who was just staring at him looking like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide and his mouth agape in an expression of horror.

_Oh._

"Look, that’s really not what’s going on..." she began to say, trying to be as gentle as she could but becoming increasingly more annoyed as the seconds passed. How could he be _so_ oblivious?

"I didn’t know you guys were a couple" Enjolras interrupted weakly, starting to sound like a broken record.

"You already said it several times" huffed Musichetta rolling her eyes, fighting the instinct of punching him in the face (the Hit Squad was still standing). She had never been a particularly patient person.

Instead of smacking Enjolras in the head, she unloaded her frustration on a shell-shocked-looking Grantaire with a small kick in the shins, trying to snap him out of his trance.

"Remember that you have to tell him something" she told him, ignoring Enjolras’ suddenly curious look.

He gave her a blank stare and then slowly nodded. He clearly didn’t think that this moment would come so soon.

"Well, then. I gotta go, Bahorel asked me to paint his nails" she exclaimed, saying the first excuse she could think of "Unless… you wanna come with. I’m gonna paint daisies".

She wanted to give Grantaire his last chance to pull back, but he shook his head and smiled sheepishly: "No, thanks, I’ll pass".

“Ok,” she grinned “Good luck”

“Wha-?” Enjolras began to say, confused, but Musichetta closed the door, leaving them to their own destiny.

 

*

 

Half an hour passed and then it was time for dinner and Musichetta was getting seriously worried that either Enjolras killed Grantaire and was hiding his body somewhere, or Grantaire decided to jump off the roof and put an end to his miserable life.

She got up the stairs as quickly as she could and she opened carefully the door.

If she knew what she was bumping into she’d never have opened that door, of course, but alas she wasn't gifted with divination.

There they were, furiously making out, Enjolras pinning Grantaire against the wall, a leg between his open thighs, meanwhile, Grantaire seemed surgically attached to his mouth and enjoying it very much.

Musichetta considered to leave them snogging there, but dinner _was_ ready and the others were probably wondering where they were. Also she could not unsee what she had seen even if she removed her eyeballs from her skull.

Anyway, she got out her phone and took a photo. Gross or not, this moment was historical.

"Hem hem" she coughed lightly to attract their attention.

They separated with a loud noise, very similar in fact to the sound of a plunger.

"Smile for the camera!" and she snatched another photo.

Enjolras, still with his hand under Grantaire’s shirt, on his hips, opened his mouth to protest, but Musichetta didn’t let him: "Time for dinner, my little lovebirds!" she said in a purposefully annoying, shrill voice "So I guess now _you_ have to make the big announcement!"

"Fuck off!" yelled Enjolras while Grantaire reinforced the concept by waving his middle finger at her.

Musichetta, chuckling, took her last photo and decided to make a quick withdrawal: when Enjolras started swearing against you it was time to run.

When she got to the dining room she was still giggling.

 

*

 

Musichetta knocked nervously on the door, trying to remember how to breathe.

"May the stupid rom-com tropes be with you" Grantaire had whispered with a wink, when she told him what she was going to do.

The door burst open, letting her see the wide grin on Bossuet’s face. Her heart missed a beat.

"Hi, can I come in?".

 

*

 

_"...it was called the Red and Black Watch, an awesome name given by the awesome me" explained Courfeyrac cheerfully while taking an awfully large serving of chicken "Black like Grantaire’s soul and red because, you know" and he gestured at the entirety of Enjolras's figure "Its purpose was to avoid you meeting half naked in the corridor again like that day, you remember it, don’t you?"_

_Grantaire choked on his chicken and started coughing._

_"Does he need the Heimlich Maneuver?" whispered Joly anxiously._

_Both Musichetta and Bossuet put a hand on his knee, one on one side and one on the other, and smiled, trying to soothe him._

_After checking on his now wheezing boyfriend, Enjolras screamed indignantly: "What the_ fuck _?"_

_And everyone started running._

**Author's Note:**

> * this is a quote from Dante Alighieri's Inferno and translated in English it means: _"All hope abandon, ye that enter here"_. This sentence is carved on the entrance of Hell. Our boy Montparnasse is not dramatic at all, noooo.
> 
> Thanks to my awesome [beta](http://burntblackfeathers.tumblr.com/) who helped me overcome the fear of posting in English for the first time and made this happen and thanks to the amazing [Just-French-Me-Up](http://just-french-me-up.tumblr.com/) who helped me find her.  
> And of course thanks to you, o reader, because you're still reading this and you didn't close this at the umpteenth mention of Jehan's awful clothes. If you're so kind to leave a comment, you'll get a Courfeyrac-style hug in some way or another.
> 
> (Come say hi on [tumblr](http://lilysayuri-chan.tumblr.com/) and on my [art blog](https://artisticlilysayuri.tumblr.com/) where I sometimes post some fanarts and where you can find a ~~very badly coloured~~ [sketch of Musichetta](https://artisticlilysayuri.tumblr.com/post/173864308377/so-im-writing-a-fic-about-musichetta-and-i-tried))


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